


Held Yourself Up by the Light

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Loss of Grace, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 10 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is it?" Dean asked. "It's not some decoy, or-"</p><p>"It's real," Cas said. "It's my grace."</p><p>He was staring down at it, brows slightly furrowed.</p><p>Dean jostled him with his arm. "What are you waiting for, then?"</p><p>Cas raised his head and looked at him. His eyes were shining, wet with unshed tears, but he was smiling. Dean felt something catch in his throat, but thankfully Cas' attention turned back to the vial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held Yourself Up by the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I had this idea but I can't be bothered to come up with and write down all the set-up around it.
> 
> Basically, Dean and Sam somehow find out that the only way to remove the MoC is to purify Dean with an angel's grace - not stolen, but freely given - and Dean tells Sam not to tell Cas. Then Metatron tells Cas where his grace is hidden, and Dean agrees to help him go get it.
> 
> Title from Tonight, Tonight by The Smashing Pumpkins (which I listened to endlessly on repeat while coming up with this scenario)
> 
> Disclaimer: the views Cas and Dean express are not necessarily my own.

At first glance, this place didn't look like it held anything as valuable as an angel's grace. But that was the point, Dean supposed. They never would have thought to look in some run-down apartment in Fremont, Nebraska if Metatron hadn't given them the exact location.

The apartment was stuffed full of junk; piles of yellowed newspapers and magazines, around a dozen chairs and a couple of recliners (all mismatched), boxes stacked against the walls. Dean was fully prepared to spend hours looking for the vial containing Cas' grace.

But the moment Cas entered the apartment, he stiffened. "It's here."

"You can sense it?" Dean asked.

Cas either didn't hear him or didn't care to answer. He walked into the room in lurching steps, as if in a trance. He stopped by a stack of boxes that partially obscured the window and put his hands around a small cardboard one. He grabbed it and pulled it from its place, heedless of the boxes on top of it that came tumbling down around him.

"Watch it," Dean said. "We don't know what's in those."

Cas kept ignoring him, too focused on the box in his hands. He gently placed it down on a nearby chair and pried it open with shaking hands. Dean walked up behind him, peering over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of a tiny vial before Cas' hand closed around it.

"This is it?" Dean asked. "It's not some decoy, or-"

"It's real," Cas said. "It's my grace."

He was staring down at it, brows slightly furrowed.

Dean jostled him with his arm. "What are you waiting for, then?"

Cas raised his head and looked at him. His eyes were shining, wet with unshed tears, but he was smiling. Dean felt something catch in his throat, but thankfully Cas' attention turned back to the vial. He removed the cork and brought it to his lips. Instead of pouring into his mouth, the grace looked more like it was being pulled in, like it couldn't wait to be reunited with Castiel.

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away, even though he knew he would have to soon. The last traces of the grace disappeared between Cas' lips, the room growing instantly darker.

Then Cas turned to face Dean, raising his hand and placing it on the back of Dean's neck.

"Wha-" Dean started, but Cas' lips cut him off.

They were warm, impossibly, unnaturally warm, and at once Dean realized what Cas was doing. He tried to pull away but Cas' hand held him still, grip like a vice. Dean could tell the moment the grace touched his lips, because it _burned_ , like nothing he had experienced before. The heat of it spread through his body, down his limbs, concentrating on the mark on his arm.

Dean screamed, or tried to, but he couldn't tell if anything came out. He reached out and grabbed Cas' upper arms to steady himself as his knees went weak. The last thing he was aware of was Cas' hand tightening its grip around the back of his neck, and then everything disintegrated into heat and light.

\---

"Did you tell Cas?"

Sam startled. He was sitting by Dean's bed, obviously having been waiting for Dean to wake up. "Dean!"

"Did you tell him?" Dean asked again, sitting up in the bed. He felt remarkably well-rested in a way he hadn't in years. Perks of swallowing down an angel's grace. "You promised you wouldn't."

"I didn't," Sam said, in that tone of voice that showed just how bad an idea he still thought it was. "Metatron did. I think he figured he could kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of the mark so you wouldn't be a threat to him anymore, and get Cas out of the picture."

Dean's stomach dropped. "Is he-"

"Human," Sam said quickly. "And he's fine. He woke up a couple of hours ago."

"Where is he?"

"In the library." Sam's hand shot out, grabbing Dean's arm before he could stand up. "Are you angry at him?"

"What do you think?" Dean asked. "He played right into Metatron's hands."

"He did it to save you."

Dean snorted. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted Cas to know. Of course Cas would jump at the chance to sacrifice himself, out of some twisted sense of duty he felt towards Dean. Even though Dean wasn't, had never been, worth it.

"Just," Sam sighed, "just don't let him know that you're angry. He's had a hard enough day, already."

"That's his own damn fault," Dean muttered.

But Sam was right. Getting angry at Cas right now would be a dick move. Cas had been stupid, yeah, but he'd also saved Dean's bacon. Dean owed him, whether he liked it or not.

\---

Cas was in the library as Sam had promised. He was sitting by a table with a book in front of him, but he didn't seem to be reading it so much as staring at it blankly.

Dean cleared his throat, and Cas' head snapped up. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Dean said, suddenly feeling awkward. What do you say to a guy who just recently saved your life, gave up his grace for you and _kissed you_ to do it?

Cas stood up and came closer. His humanity was immediately apparent in the way he moved, and Dean hated it. Hated that Cas had been reduced to this, _again,_ because of Dean.

"How do you feel?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "Pretty good, actually."

"Good," Cas echoed. He scratched the back of his neck - an awkward tick he never would have displayed as an angel. Despite himself, Dean could feel anger bubble up in his throat.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

Cas didn't look fazed. Clearly, he'd been expecting Dean's anger. "I did what I had to do."

"You didn't _have_ to do anything," Dean exclaimed. "The mark was my mess. No one asked you to jump in front of that bullet for me."

"You told me we're family," Cas said. "This is what you do for family. You jump in front of the bullet, even if they were the ones who pulled the trigger."

Dean scoffed. "That's bullshit, dude. You don't get to throw your life away just because we're family."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Cas smiled wryly. "And that sounds funny, coming from you."

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again, aware that there was nothing he could say that wouldn't dig him deeper.

"This was my choice," Cas continued. "I didn't do it because I had to. I did it because I wanted to, because I love you."

He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, and Dean had no idea how. He couldn't think the words without his tongue tying itself up in knots.

"Is that why you kissed me?"

The question came tumbling out without permission. Cas' eyes widened, his cheeks growing pink, and Dean wished he could take it back. A part of him wished that Cas would tell him no, that it had been necessary to get his grace into Dean.

"I-" Now Cas was the one gaping like a fish.

"You don't have to answer that," Dean said. "I didn't mean..."

He trailed off. Cas was looking at him with such a miserable expression, Dean knew what his answer would be without hearing it. A sudden impulse gripped him, and before he could give himself space to second guess it, Dean closed the few inches between them.

Cas' lips were warm, but naturally so. They felt chapped, dry, and Dean's tongue darted out on instinct to wet them. Cas groaned, and then he was grabbing at Dean's arms, tugging him closer with such fervor that they both swayed, close to tumbling down for a moment. Dean laughed into the kiss. A delirious joy filled his chest, an indescribable feeling like falling and spinning and flying.

Cas was so soft against him, so achingly human, but he was _here_ , with Dean, kissing him back and clinging to him like he never wanted to let go.


End file.
